


a perquisite of the inebriate

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1400113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t remember it happening, which is probably a good thing (apparently there was a lot of blood), and Posey didn’t remember getting the tramp-stamp he ended up with, but he did remember the ache the next morning, and Posey’s explosive laughter when he’d mumbled, “Ow, my tit.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a perquisite of the inebriate

**Author's Note:**

> [I was inspiiiiired.](http://chasingshhadows.tumblr.com/post/80817309272/you-will-not-convince-me-dylan-doesnt-have-a) Not beta read, sorry. Feel free to point out any mistakes bc I'm a dork.

When Dylan thinks about all the stupid drunk decisions he’s made (and believe him, the list is _long_ , thank you Posey), the piercing thing was probably the worst. Because, _okay_ , he has perky nipples. It’s not a bad thing. They’re not very sensitive – or at least they _weren’t_ – so it’d never bothered him how visible they were through his t-shirt. Okay, a few times he’d had to jokingly say to fans ‘ _hey_ , _my eyes are up here_ ,’ but all in all, despite his general self-consciousness, he didn’t really care about his  perky nipples.

Until he fucking got one _pierced_.

He didn’t remember it happening, which is probably a good thing (apparently there was a lot of blood), and Posey didn’t remember getting the tramp-stamp he ended up with, but he did remember the _ache_ the next morning, and Posey’s explosive laughter when he’d mumbled, “Ow, my tit.”

And then it became a _thing_. He and Posey managed to keep a secret for a while, a thing Dylan would glare about and whine about as he popped a Tylenol for the tenderness, and a thing that Posey would hint at and tease about – until one day Holland called them out on their bullshit.

“Okay, what’s with all the nipple jokes. Am I missing something? Because Dylan’s areolas stopped being funny in 2011.”

Posey choked at the word ‘areolas’ and Dylan mouthed wordlessly, trying to find an explanation.

“We were drunk-”

“Posey don’t-” Dylan kind of leapt across the sofa and tried to slam a palm down over Posey’s mouth – maybe two seconds too late.

“DYLAN GOT A NIPPLE PIERCED.”

There was a beat of silence where if looks could kill then season 3a of Teen Wolf may have never been filmed. Dylan had never scowled so hard. He rarely scowled at all.

Holland looked at him expectantly.

“Well, _show me_.”

Dylan groaned, made sure there was no one around before he lifted his shirt. Holland leaned in, eyebrows raised, to get a closer look.

“How long ago?”

“Uh,” Dylan rubbed his nose, “Maybe three months, was it? Three months ago, man?”

“Yeah three months,” Posey nodded.

“Show her your tramp-stamp.”

“It’s not as funny as your nipple-piercing.”

“It’s a _dolphin,_ Pose.”

_“Niiiipple piercingggg.”_

And after that, cat out of the bag, Posey must have told everyone else too, because everyone seemed to know and wanted to see— and Dylan had gone three seasons, barely having to take his shirt off even to change wardrobe but suddenly he was lifting his t-shirt every day. And after a while, it wasn’t even that bad.

It made jerking off a lot more interesting (and satisfying).

He was barefoot in the make-up trailer, changing clothes and getting ready to go home for the night, when he realised Hoechlin was watching him in the mirror as he pulled his tee over his head. Tyler caught his eye and smiled a little, ducking his head as if embarrassed that he was caught looking. Dylan raised a brow in questioning.

“Just wondering if you still had it.”

Dylan looked down at his chest, arms still inside the sleeves of his shirt. The steel bar glinted at him in the light and he shrugged.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You seemed pretty pissed off about it when it happened. You could have just taken it out, let it heal.”

Okay, at the time, Dylan had definitely considered doing so. But the first time he went near it, two days after the incident, it’d been too painful to touch. Once it wasn’t painful, it was actually kind of funny. When it wasn’t funny anymore, it was a secret that maybe thrilled him. Now it was something that he’d grown used to, appreciated.

Tyler was still looking at him.

“You like it, don’t you?” he said, swivelling his chair around, and standing up. Dylan fought down a smile, failed miserably.

“It’s nice. It feels-” he fell silent as Tyler lifted hand, dragged his thumb over the warm steel. Dylan felt gooseflesh erupting over his skin, the backs of his arms, the swell of his pecs. The nape of his neck tingled, warmth shot down to his groin, “-good,” he finished.

“I think I tugged it. The other night. When we were filming,” Tyler said quietly, and Dylan thanked god that the trailer was empty, because the noise he made was ridiculous. Tyler seemed to think so, because he grinned, pushed Dylan back, up against the make-up table, slotting his hips between Dylan’s thighs as he slid back to sit on the surface.

“Are we- are we doing this?”

Tyler nodded, pulled the fabric of Stiles’ t-shirt from where it was clasped in Dylan’s hands and tossed it aside, getting his hands around the younger man’s hips and pulling him forward.

“Sorry if I’ve been distant lately,” Tyler said, somewhat of a non sequitur, and Dylan let his head fall back against the mirror behind him, “But it was hard being around you when I knew you were taken.”

“M’not anyore,” Dylan said, and he was a little breathless when Tyler pressed his mouth to Dylan’s neck, “You can _have_ me. God. I fucking missed you. I _missed_ you.”

Tyler laughed, muffled, “I missed you too,” and then he ducked his head again, hot mouth closing over Dylan’s nipple, teeth catching against the metal piercing. Dylan groaned, rolling his hips forward and _fuck_ , he was hard, when did he-

“Jesus Christ, oh fuck, Ty- _Shit_ ,”  That was a new feeling, someone else touching the piercing, someone’s mouth on it. Despite the curiosity before, no one had decided to try _touching_ it – even his last girlfriend hadn’t cared for it at all. Tyler sucked a little, the pull making Dylan gasp and thrust again, before he pulled his mouth off altogether. The cool air against Dylan’s wet skin was shocking.

“Fuck,” Tyler murmured, “So sensitive.”

“Perk,” Dylan replied, breathless, “Wasn’t before.”

Tyler brought his hands up, both thumbs running over the tender buds – even the non-pierced one was more sensitive now– and leaning in. Dylan curled a leg around the back of Tyler’s thigh, scooting his hips closer. Their mutual groan as their erections met made Dylan’s cheeks heat up. His fingers fumbled with Tyler’s sweater, and he tugged it up, over his head. Tyler wasn’t as broad and built as he used to be but fuck, it didn’t matter. He was always, _always_ stunning.

“What do you want?” Tyler asked, and Dylan took his hand, pressed it over his cock through his jeans.

“Your mouth, if you-” he breathed in, out, shakily, “ _fuck,_ please.”

Tyler dropped to his knees, yanking Dylan’s hips right to the edge of the counter as he undid the button, the fly of his jeans, pulled them down in one go with his boxer briefs. Barely a breath later, Tyler was sucking him down into his mouth, hot and wet, Dylan shouting out a hoarse expletive into the empty trailer.

“God, fuck, look at you, I-” one of Dylan’s hands curled against the ledge of the table, the other against the nape of Tyler’s neck as he balanced on the balls of his feet, hips rocking. Tyler took him beautifully, cheeks hollowed, lips red and wet, mouth even wetter inside – Dylan couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

This was a thing they’d been dancing around for years, he’d never expected for it to happen like this. It was fast, and filthy, but _god_ it felt natural. It was right.

Almost out of habit, he lifted his hand away from the table, rolled his palm bluntly over his piercing, and sucked a sharp breath through his teeth at the blooming warmth in his chest, the bolts of pleasure that shot straight to his cock.

Tyler uncurled a hand from around his thigh and lifted it up, his broad hand sliding over Dylan’s, pulling his fingers away from his nipple and then tweaking it himself. Dylan’s hips jerked forward as he cried out, and then winced an apology – but Tyler just took it, swallowed him deeper until Dylan was sure he would choke. But he didn’t.

Instead, Tyler dug his fingertip into Dylan’s thigh, urging him forward, to thrust, and the thought alone, the thought of _fucking Tyler’s mouth_ , had Dylan panting out a warning, and coming as Tyler tugged gently on the bar of his piercing.

Dylan pushed him away by the shoulder too sensitive to be touched or sucked any more, his body slouching back against the cool mirror.

“That was kind of intense,” Tyler breathed. Dylan made an affirmative noise, unmoving, “Is it always?”

“Fuck no. That was you,” Dylan murmured, drained, “That was all you. Shit.”

Tyler stood up, looking at Dylan for a long, intense moment, before cupping his face in his hands, and pulling him in for a kiss; their first. Dylan almost laughed, thinking about how they’d skipped this part, how _dare_ they skip this part. Dylan loved this part.

He shuddered, Tyler’s mouth bitter with the taste of come, but it was kind of enjoyable in that same bitter sweet way as his piercing was. He pulled back, but wrapped his arms around Tyler’s shoulders to keep him close.

“I’m the world’s worst blowie giver, I’m so sorry, I can try if you want but I swear to god if you take me home right now, you can do whatever you want with me.”

Tyler groaned quietly, leaned forward to nip at Dylan’s lip, and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Oh my god you dork.”

“Shut up and put your shirt on,” Tyler stood back and picked up his discarded sweater, slipping it on over his head. Dylan found himself shuddering as he slipped on his own t-shirt finally, the cotton irritating against his sensitive skin.

But, with the promise of what was waiting for him when he got to Tyler’s, it seemed like the kind of torture he could bear for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [alphiewolf](http://alphiewolf.tumblr.com) on tumblr :)


End file.
